Updated: Jan 31, 2022
...You won't be able to breathe.
You will have nothing good to eat.
There won't be any medicines to heal you when you're ill.
When you go outside, everything you smell, taste, and touch will reek and foul you.
Your health will suffer.
You will have no refuge for peace and quiet when the stresses of life and society overwhelm you.
There will be nothing left that is beautiful to see and enjoy.
There will be no place for your children to play.
You'll have nowhere relaxing to go for vacation.
What little wildlife is left will be but pests and the Plague eager for their second chance to wipe out humanity.
For all the trees, slain through deforestation, and all the phytoplankton of the seas, suffocated by unchecked pollution, will no more give their precious oxygen for all aerobic life, including you, to breathe.
The crops will be impure, infested with toxic chemicals; and all the meat and conventional food that does taste good will be so artificial and made of things not meant to be consumed, that it will be a wonder it can even be digested at all.
If there are any medicines left, they will be as fake as the food, destroying more of you with every symptom they treat, making you ever sicker.
All the land and water and all that lives and exists within them will be but a toxic wasteland.
You will be a toxic wasteland.
Your health will suffer, because all that you were born to be sustained by, all the things of nature, will have been destroyed and replaced with artificial things, which your organism just simply isn't meant to tolerate.
What was once a quiet refuge of fresh air and birdsong will be a never-ceasing cacophony of honking, whining, buzzing, ringing and whirring from city and mechanical noise and digital sensations will flash in your face and leave you with no rest.
Brick, concrete, metal and mortar will be all you have to look at; and instead of flowers and butterflies and the smiles of people looking up at a crystal blue sky to brighten your day, skies of smoke, rotten tents strewn about the streets, and the lifeless eyes of faces covered by masks will have to satisfy your desire for beauty, if the gaudy colors of glittering dresses and the flashing colors of screens everywhere are not enough for you.
You won't be able to go for your morning walk, or the rusty, polluted air will rot your lungs, and the heat will burn your skin and melt all energy from you.
With no place to go outside, you'll be stuck inside in dimly-lit cubicles of concrete, with perhaps some paintings of abstract shapes and colors to decorate the walls. With pollution and human predators everywhere and little space in the backyard, if you're lucky to have one, your children won't be able to play outside because they won't be safe. They, too, will be stuck inside, and their lives will be little better than yours.
You could go on vacation, but if over-hyped cities aren't your thing, then there won't be much for you.
The only life left that will thrive will be pathogens - those nasty viruses and bacteria that everyone so fears; one of them will evolve into a super-disease that nothing can kill, and it will wipe out civilization.
For men, in their wrath and hatred for everything, will have become the pathogen - the cancer that wipes out the only world in the entire universe known to nurture Life.
And you will be forgotten. Whereas the roots and the bugs of the soil would have remembered you as they passed your stardust from generation to generation, they will instead be dead, and the wind will whisk what's left of you into oblivion - just as you, Humanity, did to Terra.
You can plant a tree.
You can get a puppy from the animal shelter.
You can give a homeless man some bread.
You can grow a garden.
You can start a conservation program.
You can choose a profession that saves lives.
You can do many things.
After all, it's not too late. Terra doesn't have to die. But her salvation has to start somewhere, with someone. Why not let that someone be you?